


It Doesn't Matter To Me

by Alchemist14



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Aramis is scared of storms, Aramis needs a hug, Porthos is a giant teddy bear, Porthos is happy to oblige, very sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:40:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28527126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alchemist14/pseuds/Alchemist14
Summary: An exhausted Aramis and Porthos stop at an inn for the night and a storm causes a bit of an issue.Read and enjoy :DAnother one rescued from my old memory stick!This was based off a prompt I saw online but I didn't quite follow it to the letter  - There is a thunderstorm. Imagine your characters being in the same room and they can’t leave. Person A is really happy about it because they like being around person B. However person B is extremely afraid of storms and is rolled up like a ball in the corner. Person A coaxes person B to look up and just as person B is about to stand up there is a loud crack of thunder. Person B (terrified) throws themselves around person A’s neck and almost starts crying. Person A sits with person B in his lap through the whole night, cuddling and comforting them until they calm down.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	It Doesn't Matter To Me

Porthos dismounted with a tired grimace. The Musketeers had been traipsing halfway around the country in search of some escaped bandits who had been ransacking farms and attacking any citizens who got in their way. Normally this would have been a job the regiment could complete with simply two men and only a couple of hours, however, once King Louis had caught wind of such criminals daring to steal from one of his vineyards in the south, it had become a job for his elite men.

_“I tell you Treville, I will not stand for such outrage. I entrust your most loyal men with the capture of these hooligans, make them regret acting against their King and bring the traitors to me for punishment”_

He heaved out a heavy sigh, head bowed and hands propped on his hips as he thought back on the King’s words. As usual their flighty monarch had doomed his men to days of hard strife and worst of all for Porthos, it had forced him to spend time in the company of the Garrison’s gloomiest new recruit. What a drag.

Speaking of old gloomy, he glanced over at the younger man standing stock still beside his own mount, head tipped back to stare at the sky beyond the brim of his hat. The set of his shoulders revealed tension and foreboding, mirrored in the grim line of his lips.

“We should hurry… it’s going to rain” he murmured, not even sparing a glance in Porthos’ direction he led his mare into the waiting stables, rubbing a soothing hand along her muzzle.

Bristling ever so slightly at this new recruit daring to give him orders, the larger man followed his lead, bringing his own horse into the warm, dry shelter of the stable and pulling off the saddle. Begrudgingly he had to admit that although new, the smaller man was very capable, almost rivalling his own speed in untacking his horse and soon enough he had his saddlebags clasped in one hand and was waiting docilely at his side.

Jerking his head briskly to the door, the two men mutely made their way inside the small inn they had decided would be their port of call for the night, the thieves having escaped their reach yet again. They were met just inside the front door by a cheerfully smiling young woman, wiping damp hands off on the apron tied securely about her waist.

“How can I help you fine gentlemen?” she asked brightly, moving to stand behind a conveniently placed desk upon which rested a small leather bound book.

“A room for the night if you could mademoiselle? And maybe some warm food to our rooms if there’s anything going spare?” Porthos asked hopefully, dropping a couple of sous on the desk to cover their costs.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry monsieur but we only have the one room available right now, what with that terrible storm on its way, everyone about here is seeking shelter. Would you be willing to share the one room?”

Taken aback by the proposal Porthos hesitated, swallowing against a suddenly dry throat he nervously glanced sideways at his companion. Surprisingly the other man seemed even more appalled by the suggestion than he was, colour draining from tan skin and his eyes widening briefly before he rearranged his face and gave a terse nod.

“That is acceptable”

Part of Porthos dearly wished the man had said no, then he would have had due cause to offer to sleep in the stable with the horses and let the other man have the bed. He was certain the beasts would be better company than the Musketeer and some dark part of his heart craved the isolation, the distance he would gain by pushing this man away. How he wished the Captain had assigned Athos to him as he usually would, the two men having formed a surprisingly strong bond in spite of their differences. Unfortunately, his taciturn brother was on a different assignment, Treville having need for him to maintain his sanity whilst planning the security at the King’s upcoming garden party soiree, in honour of visiting dignitaries from the Netherlands.

Presumably the Captain thought he could be a good influence on the new recruit who despite having been at the Garrison for a couple of months now, had yet to make a single friend, let alone exchange more than two words in greeting with another human being.

He obviously hoped his own bubbly, outgoing personality would rub off and drag him out of his dusty shell, but after two days on the road his own happiness had been drained out of him, replaced with a dark gloomy raincloud hovering above both their heads.

No, the Captain’s plan had most definitely backfired.

Lost in his own thoughts, he was surprised to find that they had been walking and had now come to a halt before a plain wooden door that had clearly seen better days, covered as it was in deep gouges and hairline cracks in its foundations.

“My apologies again” the woman laughed sheepishly, “the last guests were less than careful and we simply haven’t had the spare funds to make repairs. The inside is more or less fine, just the door took the brunt of it”

“It’s fine” was all the other man had to say on the topic once again and Porthos barely held back from rolling his eyes.

Thankfully, despite being one room it was furnished with two beds. That eased some of the tension coiled in the pit of his stomach, it was one thing sharing a bed with Athos, while still awkward he was his brother, but another thing entirely sharing with this guy.

Shrugging off his doublet he threw himself down on one rickety bed to tug his boots off his aching feet and unbuckle his weapons belt. It felt amazing to finally be off a horse and resting his aching body, with a happy sigh he flung himself onto his back, closing his eyes and allowing himself to drift off without a thought for the other man in the room.

* * *

Porthos startled awake, blinking in confusion at the unfamiliar room he was lying in, wreathed in darkness. By the light he could only assume he had been asleep for a couple of hours at least, though he couldn’t understand what had awoken him.

Glancing around his eyes strained to adjust to the dark, when the room was lit suddenly by a blinding flash of white light that he belatedly classified as lightening, when a thunder clap echoed in the distance. It would have been impossible for him to continue to sleep through that, slinging an arm across his brow he resigned himself to a sleepless night.

Lightning flashed once again, followed swiftly by another deafening clap of thunder.

Under the rumbling Porthos suddenly caught a distressed whimper from within the room. That’s strange he mused the only other person in this room is _him_ and he wasn’t injured so what reason would he have for whimpering like that?

Clambering to his feet, his eyes widened in shock at the empty, unslept in bed that occupied the other half of the room and frantically rounded the bed to search for his missing companion.

The next flash of lightning split the sky and lit up a figure, curled tightly into the corner of the room, legs pressed firmly to their chest and head buried in its arms. The crack of thunder made them flinch violently, emitting another choked whimper as he began to rock gently back and forth, trembling with fear.

Porthos slowly and carefully approached the young man, crouching low and attempting to make his bulk as small and unthreatening as possible, almost as if he were approaching a skittish animal that was in danger of bolting at any second. Reaching out he gently rested a hand on skinny shoulders, and the other exploded into frantic action, flailing limbs to ward off his presumed attacker and futilely trying to scramble further back into the corner, as if to become one with the wall.

“Alright” Porthos exclaimed shakily, pulling his hand back as if burnt. “I’m not touchin you, not touchin”

Miserable sobbing bubbled over from the other mans lips, shoulders shaking violently with the force of his tears.

“Hey… Aramis” the bigger man whispered soothingly, settling himself opposite the man, folding his legs beneath him and craning his neck to catch the other’s eye. “What’s goin on eh? Talk to me”

Despite having little love in his heart for this man, Porthos was not a cold person. He did not believe anyone deserved to suffer when he could do something about it, and as much as he attempted to deny it, there was no escaping the fact that this now fragile looking man was his brother. As soon as he joined the Musketeers, regardless of how reticent and withdrawing he was, he joined their family, and nothing upset him more than whatever it was that upset his brothers.

“I’m, I, I’m fine” Aramis stammered thickly, “you can go back to sleep”

Another rumble of thunder shook the room and with a high pitched squeak of terror, the smaller man buried his head even further into his arms and began mumbling feverishly to himself.

“I’ve seen fine… and you are clearly not it” Porthos retorted, raising an eyebrow with barely concealed scepticism regardless of the fact that the other man wouldn’t be able to see it with his eyes closed. When that failed to garner any response from the other man, he shuffled a little closer on his bum.

“At least look me in the eye and tell me you’re fine. Then I might just believe you” he teased, attempting a little bit of levity.

Clearly steeling himself, Aramis clenched his fists and ever so slowly lifted his head to meet the warm, dark eyes of the man sitting opposite him. Mustering up a wobbly smile he allowed his head to tilt to the side and reiterated his earlier statement.

“I’m fine, really”

Porthos took a good long look at the miserable man before him, surveying his pale, drawn face, the dark shadows beneath hollow eyes and cheeks marked with glittering tear tracks. The trembling lips stretched into a twisted mockery of a reassuring smile were the last straw, Porthos couldn’t hold back anymore, this blasted soft heart of his was going to get him into trouble at some point just like Charon always told him.

Moving slowly, he reached forwards with both his hands, aiming to avoid spooking the man as he had done earlier, and cupped the narrow face in his big, warm palms, using his thumbs to gently smooth away the tears. Aramis stared wide eyed at the man holding him so carefully, he was not used to such treatment.

“Wha.?” He asked in confusion, mouth dropping open slightly

“I don’ like to see a brother upset. So, mon ami, tell me what’s wrong.”

Lightning flashed and before Aramis could say a word, he was gasping out in terror and attempting to hide his face from the light, pressing against the hands holding him in place.

“Whoa there, it’s okay.” Porthos exclaimed in alarm, worried for the health of the other man’s neck as he thrashed about.

A high-pitched keening escaped from the petrified man and Porthos did the only thing he could think of in the circumstances. One hand slid down from his cheek to wrap around his shoulder while the other cupped the back of his head, using his strength to tug Aramis forward, who pitched into the solid wall of Porthos’ muscled chest with an exhale of surprise. With the gentle hold he had on the younger man’s head, Porthos pressed his face firmly into the fabric of his shirt, blocking the frightened man’s view of the lightning.

“It’s okay” he whispered into the curly hair, smiling gently at the slender hands that hesitantly reached up to clench fistfuls of his shirt.

“I’m sorry, I’m so pathetic!” Aramis sobbed quietly, unable to prevent the trembling in his limbs and the violent flinch that overtook his body at another loud clap of thunder.

“You’re not pathetic, somethin’s happened to get you all worked up, tha’s all. Happens to everyone at some point” Porthos reasoned calmly, “do you think you can tell me what’s botherin ya and maybe we can sort it out somehow?”

While he was talking, Porthos managed to use his grip on Aramis to slowly coax him into standing up, pushing him away to stand on his own two feet for a moment. He had just managed to separate them in order to take another good look at his face, wondering if the younger man was still in the present or had retreated to that other place within his head that he had seen him visiting when appearing at his most gloomy.

The next clap of thunder was the loudest yet, the storm having travelled closer mile by mile until it seemed almost to be hovering like a dark cloud directly above the very inn they were staying in. This one elicited the most violent reaction yet from Aramis, he let out a short wail that was almost lost in the din and leapt forward back into Porthos’ arms, wrapping his own around the thick waist and burying his face back into the shirt.

With a little oof of surprise at the impact, Porthos hesitantly embraced the other man before a soft smile graced his lips.

“So it’s the thunder huh?” he mused quietly, running a hand through his soft curls once again to try and comfort him.

Once again, he got no answer as the man clinging to him was becoming ever more traumatised as time went by and the thunder became more frequent.

Taking a brief glance around to orientate himself, Porthos began to slowly guide their joined bodies back across the room, having difficulty but still managing to get the other to put one shaky foot in front of the other.

When he reached the nearest bed, he was about to tell Aramis to sit down when something occurred to him and he adjusted their path accordingly, to settle him on the bed he had been occupying not long ago. When the next flash of lightning lit the sky, half the room was lit up, including the other bed, but where they sat was still mostly wreathed in darkness. This way if Aramis were at any point to remove his face from his person, he would at least not be disturbed by the light, although he wasn’t one hundred percent sure that it wasn’t just the thunder that bothered the other man.

“Aramis” Porthos called, trying to get the slender man to look at him. “It’s okay to be afraid, there is no shame in being scared of storms”

“But there is” Aramis murmured, unmoving from his position pressed close to the larger man “I am a Musketeer, a member of the King’s elite regiment, I should be better than this. I was a soldier for many years in the infantry too and yet I am undone completely and utterly by a simple bit of drumming and a light show in the sky. I’m pathetic.”

Shaking his head in exasperation, Aramis began to pull away, frustrated with his own behaviour and wanting nothing more than to seek out a quiet and dark place to hide in until the disturbance was over, perhaps he would pilfer one of the blankets from the bed and hide underneath it in a blanket cocoon. That was becoming increasingly tempting with every second that went by.

Porthos wouldn’t let him go however, giving him a terse shake until glistening brown eyes locked onto his own, wide with shock at the manhandling he was getting. What was the other man’s problem?

“Don’t you ever say that about yourself again! Do you hear me!” he exclaimed harshly, punctuating the statement with another shake to Aramis’ shoulders. “No one is invincible, no one can just push everything out of their minds and press past it. Most of all you shouldn’t have to deal with this all on your own, you are not pathetic, I think mostly you’re just lonely”

“YOU KNOW NOTHING ABOUT ME!”

Porthos startled at the sudden yell from the normally docile man, who had pushed him violently away and thrown himself down to lay prone on the bed, face buried in the pillow. He hadn’t taken him as one for dramatics, but he rivalled Charon in his capacity to flip from one emotion to another in seconds and each was the strongest emotion they’d ever felt.

“I know enough” he replied, a gentle hand dropping to rest between the other’s shoulder blades. “I know that you are strong. Just a few weeks ago you took down five men single handedly after they clubbed Etienne round the head and dislocated your shoulder. I know you are kind. You took guard duty at the palace from Jacques so he could get home to his son, even when it meant you wouldn’t get any sleep for over twenty four hours. I could carry on, I may not know you very well Aramis, you seemed intent on keeping everyone at arms length, but I know enough to know that pathetic is the furthest you can get from what you are truly like.”

His impassioned speech clearly made it through the other man’s stubborn shell as he bent his neck awkwardly to blink in amazement at the muscular man staring intently at him.   
“Porthos” he breathed, eyes softening with fondness.

He lay himself down beside Aramis on the narrow bed, teetering dangerously over the edge until he shifted his bulk more towards the centre, settling with his nose a mere hairs breadth from the other mans. Their breath mingled as they lay silently for a moment before the loudest clap of thunder yet sent Aramis fleeing back into his mind, hunching his shoulders and shaking ever so slightly.

Porthos shifted enough to be able to drag a blanket up and over both their shoulders, tucking it carefully around their bodies to ward off the chill that was beginning to gather in the air since the fire had died down to ashes in the grate.

Pushing back the wave of awkwardness rising in his chest, Porthos was willing to do whatever it took to make one of his Musketeer brothers feel better, so he tugged Aramis into his arms.

“We both need to get some sleep, we still have to catch our targets tomorrow. Don’t think this is over by any means, you and I are going to have a good long talk about this in the morning. Until then, don’t worry. It’s okay to be afraid and I am going to be here for you, everything will be absolutely fine.”

Aramis rubbed a hand against his eyes, which had begun itching with drying tears and rested his forehead against Porthos’ chest with a sigh, feeling the tension draining from his body and his eyelids drooping with tiredness.

Thunder sounded above the inn and Aramis startled but was quickly soothed by a warm hand stroking along his back from his head down and before long he had fallen into a relaxed sleep.

The storm didn’t let up for the entirety of the night, and the weather was still dreary and dismal in the morning when they woke up. Although that might have had something to do with how little sleep they got. Numerous times throughout the seemingly eternal night, Aramis had jerked awake with the cracking of thunder, eyes wide and breath heaving in panic. Each and every time Porthos was awake with him, soothing him with gentle touches and reassuring words until he was relaxed enough to close his eyes once more.

In fact, Aramis couldn’t be entirely sure whether Porthos had slept at all, how else would he have known when he was needed, he wasn’t going to mention this to him though, Aramis wanted to put all of this behind him, the best outcome would be acting as if it never happened at all.

“You awake?” Porthos spoke to the room, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling, not bothering to turn and look at Aramis in the silence.

Briefly, Aramis entertained the notion of just ignoring the other man, pretending to simply still be fast asleep and unknowing of his words, but that would just delay the inevitable.

“Yeah” he barely breathed the word.

“You can get some more sleep if you want, I’ll go down and get some breakfast, bring it back up to the room”

The gesture was kind and he dearly wished to take him up on his offer but knew if he went back to sleep he would feel the worse for it when he next woke up.

“I’m awake now, I might as well stay up. But I have to say breakfast sounds good”

Porthos gave him a toothy grin, watching as he pushed himself up in bed, wedging a pillow between his back and the hard wall and folding the blanket around his waist.

“I’m not a blushing maiden you know, you needn’t fuss so” Aramis smiled wanly, appreciating the effort all the same as he really felt too weak to be doing anything at the moment, the night had really taken it out of him.

“I know” was his simple reply as Porthos walked out the door, stockinged feet almost silent on the wooden flooring.

What an odd man Aramis mused to himself in the quiet of the empty room, any other person who had found out in the past had wasted no time in ridiculing him. In poking fun at how pathetic he was, that he was a disgrace to the name of France and should just go back to where he came from.

Porthos was different. His memories of last night may be fuzzy but there were clear patches, flashes of images where the larger man was comforting him, holding him, arguing with him. The very fact that he had woken up warm and comfortable beside the larger man was a completely novel experience for him, however it was a most welcome one.

Never before had a storm had such a positive impact on his life. He knew he was gloomy and distant with other people, that he came across as being rude and cold, but it was never intentional. His life had not been an easy one so far, he had learnt it was better for him in the long run to keep his distance from those that could hurt him, build a wall around his heart and never let anyone in. The truth was he was quite a friendly person, loved laughing and joking with people, his mother always telling him he would get in trouble for his teasing one day, but ever since that day he found it difficult to open up to people. He could no longer trust. The men who were meant to be his brothers would never trust him.

“What’s with that face then gloomy?” said a rumbling voice from beside him.

He startled at the sudden voice, somehow Porthos had managed to enter the room while he was deep in thought, without him even noticing the slightest bit of change.

“Nothing really, I was just thinking” Aramis replied absently before the full sentence filtered through his brain and a flush rose to his cheeks “And I am not gloomy!”

The larger man couldn’t contain a laugh at his impassioned defence of his character, slapping his thigh as he chuckled uncontrollably.

“Fine, maybe a better word would be pensive?” Porthos mused, one finger pressed lightly to his lips in thought.

“That’s no better!” Aramis exclaimed in outrage.

Porthos’ face slowly morphed from amusement to gentle concern and was that understanding? Reaching out he placed a tray loaded with a steaming bowl of porridge, freshly baked bread and some tea, on his lap, warning him to eat with a meaningful glance.

  
“Now, want to tell me how you’re really feeling? And if you say fine I will personally give you a smack”

“To be entirely honest” Aramis sighed, tearing a hunk of bread off and beginning to squash it between his fingers, fiddling so he could avoid paying full attention to the other man “I’m actually a little tired, no scratch that, exhausted!

“I’m not surprised, i’ve had more sleep on guard duty than I got last night,” Porthos chuckled good naturedly, “remind me to buy some earplugs or something!”

The marksman’s face clouded over with shame and a spark of anger flickered to life in his gut, this was what he had been expecting all along since the larger man had found him on the floor, this was what always happens. Although usually much quicker, only a very sadistic personality would draw the ridicule out this long, pretending to be understanding, sympathetic, a friend even… before ripping his fragile esteem to pieces.

“I apologise for the inconvenience” he muttered between gritted teeth, knuckles white where he gripped his mug of tea, unable to even feel the heat of the boiling liquid through the white hot furnace of anger and shame. “It won’t happen again so you don’t have to worry.”

A large, yet surprisingly gentle hand landed atop his forearm, whilst the other gripped his chin in a manner reminiscent of the early hours when this same man had coaxed him to meet his eyes, when he merely turned his head away and refused to look at him.

Ducking his head to meet pained brown eyes, Porthos couldn’t prevent the pained expression from slipping onto his face. Once again it seemed he had revealed his talent for putting his foot in his mouth and upsetting someone when his intention was to do quite the opposite, he just didn’t have the same command over language that Athos did. Where was Athos when you needed him?

“Look, I didn’t mean it like that and I think you know that”

At Aramis’ quiet scoff of disgusted disbelief, Porthos tightened his grip to prevent him pulling away and continued on determinedly.

“The earplugs would be for you, you great big numpty. I might even be tempted to get a blindfold, although that fancy sash o yours would do nicely too, protect you from the flashes as well as the rumbling ey.”

At that moment Porthos felt the resistance in the other man just melt away, the sheer relief of having someone understand the problems you’re having and instead of ridiculing or degrading him for it, he was trying to help him and make him more comfortable.

Face melding into a mix of contrition and warm gratitude, Aramis finally met the larger man’s eyes and gave him a wobbly smile. “Thank you, I apologise for my prickly behaviour, no one has ever… reacted the way you have to my, issues,” he flapped a hand vaguely to illustrate his last word.

“Well then they’re all a bunch of a-holes who aren’t worthy of anyone’s time or energy, and frankly ought to be ashamed to call themselves Musketeers. We’re brothers who are meant to look out for each other in our best times and our worst times, not make life even harder for each other when understandably you’re struggling. Even if you weren’t a Musketeer, I would still try to help you, because I’m not a git, and from what I’ve seen, you’re a good man who deserves better.”

In the face of that impassioned speech Aramis could feel his cheeks begin to burn and swiped a hand nervously across his face, clearing his throat awkwardly he murmured his thanks once more, swinging his pack over his shoulder and jerking his head to the door.

“We ought to get going or we’ll never make it in time, remind me to stop in the next town for some earplugs and maybe even some decent wine.”

Porthos grinned from ear to ear at those words, knowing the wine was aimed at him since he hadn’t seen his brother drinking on even one occasion since he had joined the regiment. He knew this was the first step in the right direction for a strong friendship, little did he know just how strong that friendship was destined to become.


End file.
